


of homely fire and burning pyre

by FeatheredShadow



Category: The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Drama, F/M, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 18:18:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10882335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeatheredShadow/pseuds/FeatheredShadow
Summary: His King's love had turned into fiery flames, an all-consuming passion burning everything in its wake for a dark-haired beauty.





	of homely fire and burning pyre

There was a time, Charles remembers, when things were easier. Simpler. When he loved the King, when he loved the Queen, as any subject should.

When he loved Princess Mary from afar, not letting himself believe in reciprocity – not when she was still so young, and promised to a future on the continent anyway.

The bright days of his youth.

(When he loved Henry, _Harry_ , deeply, fiercely, in a way no Christian man should ever have done so – keeping his secret to himself, and basking into the affection young Prince Harry showed him times and times again.)

(Watching him fall in love with Catarina of Aragon and thinking they would be the most happy couple of Christendom, if God so willed it.)

(He had been _naïve_.)

(He had been _in love_ – still was, although his love for _his_ Prince, his _King_ , had abated from its fiery passion of the first years, turning instead into the strong, bright light of the moon. Always there, even if it became unseen, sometimes.)

 

ooOoo

 

Mary understands him, in a way that is much different than he could have expected. She understands that he is _drawn_ to her brother like a moth to a flame, wanting to bask in his royal presence as much possible, she understands and she lets him be. Maybe she understands it because he is drawn to _her_ as well – the beauty, and the independent, passionate soul under it.

And yet there is something soothing about her, an inner feeling of peace he cannot seem to reach while he is around Henry. Maybe it is because she loves him the same way he loves her – fiercely enough to be willing to risk her life on it. Maybe it is because she is more peaceful, at heart, because the weight of the crown hasn’t hovered over her head for the major part of her life.

Maybe it is because she found serenity, somehow, and she shares some of it with him by the mere virtue of _being at his side_ , in his life – of loving him with all her heart, in the same way he loves her.

(A small part of his heart is irremediably gone, fallen into Henry’s hands, and he can never have it back.)

(He is not sure he wants it back.)

 

ooOoo

 

He manages to find peace – or equilibrium, at least – in those blessed years between 1513 and 1523, give or take. He is a rising sun at court, and no one seems to be able to stop his course – make him fall, and crash and burn. He is at Henry’s side, always, witness the happy beginning of his marriage to Catalina, and quietly share their grief when their first child is stillborn. And there’s Mary, of course there is Mary – her marriage to the old French King, a beautiful wedding that doesn’t last, for _their_ most utter happiness, and the new French King, the young one, Francis, is too happy, now that his grip on the throne is secure, and help them elope in secret.

He almost loses his head for that, but this is the first – and only – time he outwardly goes against Henry – too eager to find some peace, to find someone next to whom he could mend his aching heart, and Mary burns as bright as her brother, and how could he not love her? She is a free spirit, and there is something _warm_ about her – something homely, that calls to his soul.

He is _happy_ , and there is nothing to be done against that.

Not when Henry forgives them – not when Katherine of Aragon is reminding him they married for love, my love, in hushed whispers, and isn’t he a romantic at heart? (Hadn’t he watched his favorite, most beloved sister fall in love with his best friend, the man he loved and trusted best? How could it hold it against them?)

They are young, they are in love, they are _in favor_ , what could go wrong?

 

ooOoo

 

The Sun, Charles had pondered, one night, ale long gone to his head, Mary away in Suffolk – her health fragile these days, and she didn’t want to stay at court in any case, not when _she_ was here too – was necessary for the earth to grow and flourish, but could also burn and destroy everything. Such as his King’s love – warm and nurturing towards Katherine and their daughter, his sweet little niece, Princess Mary, and would he ever love more another of his King’s children? He doubted it – that had turned into fiery flames, an all-consuming passion burning everything in its wake for a dark-haired beauty.

A French girl in manners and fashion.

Oh, Charles could have been tempted, for passion, had the circumstances been any different – he liked those fiery spirits – but _she_ was nothing he could ever be attracted to.

Not when she had bewitched Henry, not when she was the cause of the Great Matter.

(Not when he could feel _his_ King slowly slipping away from his fingers, taking bits and pieces of his heart with each passing day, distance growing between them.)

(Not when he was thinking he was going to lose _Henry_.)

(What good could his life be if it wasn’t in the presence of the Sun? Country life never agreed with him, he knew, he had tried, before, in the early months of his marriage with Mary. He could not survive away from the court – would just wither and die a slow, painful death, its causes unknown to all.)

He had thought to find solace in Mary, before, but she was slowly slipping away too, illness devastating her body, and her fight with her brother not doing her health any good.

He cannot lose them both.

Will not.

 

ooOoo

 

Mary is the first to go.

There is something that _breaks_ in Charles’ soul when she dies, but he doesn’t even realize it at first, burying his grief into his duties at court. He almost wants to go back to Suffolk, to his children, but Henry _needs_ him, and he needs him right back. It’s not overt, of course – and most people don’t realize it, especially when he marries his ward a few months later, a decision that probably wasn’t wise – but Henry needs someone to remind him of Mary, of his beloved sister, gone while they were still estranged.

Charles wonders whether or not it is a bad omen – for the King to marry and for the first familial event afterwards to be the death of his favorite sister.

(He doesn’t let himself think of it – not until he is back in the darkness of his apartments, ale waiting for him, and he lets himself being surrounded by shadows, trying to reach out to Mary, trying to win back some of the Sun’s favor, some of his affections.)

(He finds he still has some of the King’s affection, that their quiet companionship is not all gone, that there is still something _natural_ to him orbiting around Henry, that he can keep on being beloved, after all.)

(He hasn’t lost everything – and careful manages by being silent, by not telling the court how he feels about the new Queen, about the old, although his sympathies are now. But he is becoming part of the old guard now, already, and some still remember those blessed early years of Henry’s reign, when they seemed to be on the edge of a golden world.)

(Anger is brewing in England now and Charles always looks for bad omen – not even consciously, but some nights, he swears he can hear Mary telling him the worst is yet to come.)

 

ooOoo

 

There is something about Henry’s presence that makes it so difficult to leave court, but he needs the peace and quiet of the country life, some days, needs it so bad it almost hurt.

He doesn’t leave while he’s still vaguely unsure of his footing in his Majesty’s heart – knows all too well how Queen Katherine lives, how Princess Mary, his poor, most beloved niece, is treated – and doesn’t want to leave his back undefended to his enemies.

The Lord knows they are growing at court, as well as the new religion, as the Queen is somehow both growing in power and losing it.

There is this bloody day of January 1536, where he thinks this is the end – swears himself off to God and then finds his footing again, Henry being safe and sound.

Safe and sound.

 

ooOoo

 

Heads roll five months later and Charles realizes the King’s love – the warm rays of the sun – has turned into fire. Definitively, maybe.

An all-encompassing fire he is standing in the middle of, unafraid.

He has the feeling he had always known that fiery passion could one day turn into a furnace – under the right consequences – self-destroying, and devastating everything around itself.

The King loves his new wife, he does – and the court is holding its breath, waiting to see if she will succeed where her predecessors failed, when she knows the _consequences_ – but he is consumed by fire.

Charles realizes the boy he fell in love with has been consumed by this fire too – and perhaps it happened a long time ago.

Perhaps it happened in those long weeks of April and May.

It doesn’t really matter anymore.

He is ready to lose himself in the fire – knows the cost, and know he cannot stay away.

Could never stay away, no matter how hard he tries to.

He is prey to the flames – the homely fire that attracted Catalina and Anne, that attracted him too.

A burning pyre he will let himself being surrounded by, if that’s the last thing he ever does.

He cannot stay away from the Sun.


End file.
